Alone
by Permanent Rose
Summary: The only thing Will's discovering about himself is that he's terrible at being on his own. Post Hell-O. Mild spoilers.


_A/N: This is the first thing I've written that isn't Emma-centric, I think. Haha, this is an accomplishment for me :P_

_I'm definitely not a Will and Terri shipper, but this idea was just begging me to write it. It takes place after Hell-O, so there's some spoilers, just to warn you. It's different than most things I've written, but I still hope that you enjoy it!_

* * *

Will Schuester knows he messed up. He doesn't need _two _women to tell him that.

But really, who can blame him? After all, as _they _both pointed out, he's going through a tough time right now. Even though his wife falls under the category of psycho bitch, it's not really making the divorce any easier.

And now he's feeling lonelier than ever. It's kind of tough, he's not going to lie, to be on his own after being in a relationship since he was a sophomore in high school. That's like, half his life.

But he knows they're right—Emma and Shelby—telling him he needs to spend sometime alone.

But, damn it, no one ever told him how hard that would be. It's been less than a week, and all he's discovered about himself is that he's horrible at being on his own.

He passes by Emma's office too many times a day to count, fighting the urge to poke his head in just to see her smiling face. The truth is, he's just not missing a potential girlfriend—he's missing his best friend.

He's got Shelby's card hung on his fridge, though he already has the number memorized. In all honestly, he can't remember the last time he's had a goodnight sleep—it just feels too weird having that queen sized bed all to himself. He's lost count of the times he's dialed Shelby's number on those sleepless nights, only to promptly hit the end button before it can even ring once.

Damn it—what if that's all there is to him? That he's completely incapable of surviving on his own? He's been waiting for some revelation, some awesome realization on this road to self discovery, but he's just pretty sure he's going to lose it if he spends one more night alone.

And that's when the door of his apartment swings open. He doesn't care who it is, as long as it's _someone, _because he's getting pretty sick of just himself.

It's Terri, which shouldn't surprise him. Well—it doesn't actually surprise him, because she's been stopping by at least once a week to reclaim yet another item she's left behind.

He's feels dumb, really, because it took him so long to figure it out. He was gullible enough to believe that she actually had forgotten that one last item from the previous trip each time. But he knows now she's forgetting each item on purpose. She's just fishing for an excuse to run into Will.

He usually just throws her out, shoving those few stupid things she doesn't really want into her hands before she can even get a word in, but tonight, he's not going to lie, he's happier than he should be that she dropped by.

"Just getting the set of good china—I cannot believe I _completely _forgot about it!" Terri says briskly, hardly even glancing at Will.

She struts toward the dining room, and Will notices her outfit—no doubt Terri's intention. But really, how can he _not _notice the form fitting jeans that make her ass look so tight or that pink empire top with the plunging neckline?

"Terr—those are my dishes. They were _my _parents' wedding gift." He doesn't know why he's bothering to argue with her—but damn, it feels good to. Actually, he realizes, it feels good just to talk at all. Silence, contrary to the cliché saying, is not golden.

"Exactly, Will, they're _our _dishes, which makes them just as much mine as yours," Terri huffs, stacking the fragile dishes more viciously than she should as she takes them out of china cabinet. She glances at Will, who has followed her to the threshold of the dining room. "Don't you have something better to do? I'm surprised you don't have that little red-haired minx over."

He doesn't answer. And even though he tries to keep an expressionless face, Terri can see right through it. She knows him too well.

She laughs—a scathing maniacal laugh as she abandons the dishes to approach Will. "Didn't work out for you two, did it?" She watches his face carefully. "And it was that little harpy who ended it." His quick, panicked glance confirms it. Damn, she knows him well. "I'm a little surprised, actually." She dips her head dangerously close to his as she says the words. "Didn't think the little freak had it in her."

He's furious, confused, and a little unsure why he's liking the fact that Terri's lips are so close to his. "Terri, don't ta—"

Her mouth plunges down on his, biting frantically at his lower lips. She knows him well—knows just the way he likes it, knows just the way to turn him on.

They end up on the couch—that damn couch Will has kissed two other women on in the past few weeks—with Terri straddled on his lap, tugging hastily at his belt, unable to get his pants off fast enough.

It's quick—Will doesn't even have enough time to fully undress her by the time she pulls away, panting heavily as she pulls her tight jeans back over the curves of her thighs.

She's so cool, so professional, as she fixes her hair and straightens her shirt, striding toward the door as she leaves Will on the couch, shaking like of leaf from the intensity of their brief love making. With her hand on the doorknob, she says, "Just something for you to think about on these lonely nights you have ahead of you."

Another malicious smile, and she's out the door.

Will's still trembling as he pulls his own jeans back on. He falls heavily onto the couch, breathing out a steady stream of air.

Terri certainly hasn't been moping around these past few weeks, and he finds that he's slightly bitter that Terri seems to be doing so well on her own. Only weeks ago, she was the helpless, clingy wife who would've done anything in her desperateness. And damn, even if she really is as pathetic as he is, she knows how to hide it. In fact, he's convinced she's somehow become even more ruthless.

He goes to bed early, feeling like crap. After all, it's not a sin to have sex with your wife, he reminds himself in vain.

But it sure as hell feels like one.

And damn, now he feels more alone than he did before.


End file.
